


Teach Me How

by PeacefulPhoenix



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Internal Conflict, Jack uses she/her pronouns, M/M, Murder, Namely Ryan locking himself up in his room for a week, Psychological Torture, Sexual Tension, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, jeremwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulPhoenix/pseuds/PeacefulPhoenix
Summary: The only time Ryan could remember feeling real fear over what he had become was when he met Jeremy. At first, he thought it was just because Jeremy hadn’t yet been tainted by their ways and the world they lived in. But when Ryan walked home one day, filthy in the crimes he’d just committed, he didn’t see fear or disapproval in Jeremy’s eyes. He saw admiration.





	1. The Young Gun

Most of the time, the crew operated in total unison. Everyone went on the missions and had their roles. Their bases were covered when everyone worked together. It’s one of the reasons they were able to be so successful and why people feared them so much. At times, it was like they were able to communicate telepathically, not needing to say what had to be done before someone had taken care of the problem already.

Sometimes, that wasn’t an option. 

Not everyone in the crew agreed on how things had to be done. Geoff had learned early not to try to force them to do it. The real problem came with Jack, the Queen of the crew. When she wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do, the rest of the crew was hesitant to follow Geoff’s lead. It wasn’t that they weren’t loyal. Everyone was. Fiercely so. But Jack didn’t get angry often.

Ryan remembered standing outside the door that first time, listening. Remembered the smash of a vase against the wall and the raised voices, arguing over who was right. He couldn’t even remember what the mission had been. Some kind of torture probably. Jack had always had a problem with that.

It had been a passionate fight that had very nearly come to blows but in the end, they could never hurt each other. No matter how much they fought, there was too much love there. That’s why Ryan hadn’t been worried as he listened in. It would have been more terrifying if the fight had been quiet.

Geoff had apologized the very next day but it had changed things. The world had rested heavier on the Boss’ shoulders after that day. The job’s still needed doing but now he knew he didn’t have Jack’s support. He would come to Ryan with dark eyes and ask him to do terrible things. 

Ryan had never said no. 

It was easier for him to keep the secret than anyone else. Everyone believed that he would had no morals and didn’t question when he came home covered in blood or other less savory gore. He’d seen the chills run through even his friends as their eyes met his through the holes in the mask. He’d seen the disapproval written without reservation on Jack’s face. One time, she had asked where he’d been, like a mother scolding a child out past curfew. Ryan had offered only silence and left to clean himself of what he’d just done.

All that, he could handle. In his moments of doubt, the knowledge that what he was doing was necessary played on repeat in his mind. It wasn’t that he killed and tortured for fun as everyone thought. It was what his boss needed him. The thrill of adrenaline that coursed through him during a chase or as he finally pulled the information, screaming from an informant was only natural. He couldn’t control how his body would react. That wasn’t really him.

Yet every time he went out, he doubted that truth more and more. He began to wonder if this was what he truly was, what he’d always been destined to become. Perhaps this was his reality and the college theater kid had been the lie instead of the other way around.

That wasn’t what scared him most though. 

The only time Ryan could remember feeling real fear over what he had become was when he met Jeremy. At first, he thought it was just because Jeremy hadn’t yet been tainted by their ways and the world they lived in. Sure, he’d been in the crime business for a while but running with a small time crew that seemed like some kind of fan club to the Fake AH Crew more than it’s own distinct entity. 

Oh, he was good. There was no disputing that. In a lot of ways, Jeremy seemed to operate on a level above any of them, able to pull off daring, honestly quite death defying stunts. Los Santos had as much reason to fear Jeremy as any of the rest of the crew.

But he was different. He acted in an innocence somehow totally different than Gavin’s, not having fun because of the violence or in spite of it but… in ignorance of it. He did so well because he wanted to be the best. 

And when Ryan walked home one day, filthy in the crimes he’d just committed despite his morals, he didn’t see fear or disapproval in Jeremy’s eyes. He saw admiration. 

Ryan disappeared into his room for the next two days and for the week after, appeared only occasionally for food or to run an errand for the crew. He spoke to no one, least of all the newest member of the team. He couldn’t face Jeremy. It would mean facing himself too. 

It was Jack who came to check on him first. The crew, for the most part, gave the others their space. This job was stressful and at times, they all just needed time to grieve or to pretend they were someone else for a while. There was an unspoken rule not to let this kind of behavior go on for longer than a week. 

Her knock was so quiet that Ryan almost didn’t hear it. He had resolved to believe that was the case, let her give up and leave, but she opened the door anyways. “Can I come in?” She asked, voice gentler than Ryan felt he probably deserved.

“I have a feeling that if I said no you’d come in anyways,” Ryan muttered in return, not looking up from whatever it was he was looking at so intently. He wasn’t wrong and Jack stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on his bed, legs crossed and rather silent. 

She could see now what he was working on. A terracotta flower pot. Decorating the outside were intricate designs, some she recognized and some that she didn’t. It was clear he’d spent a good deal of time on it, though. Covering the desk pushed against the window were nearly a dozen similar pots, each filled with a small succulent. Across the lip of one she noticed a name. Specifically her name. The names of the other crew members adorned others. And Ray’s. The only one to feature a skull as far as she could tell. 

Ryan stayed silent, not acknowledging her and continued to sketch on the terracotta with a pencil. She let him work for probably 30 minutes, watching silently. His room was immaculately clean. If the sheets weren’t a mess she might have expected that he hadn’t even been sleeping here. 

And, well, the sheets weren’t the only thing that looked to be a mess. Ryan’s hair fell unevenly on each side of his face, wavy with tangles and looking rather like he’d crawled out of bed less than an hour earlier. He looked totally different without his normal intimidating getup, like a human. His washed out-brown t-shirt was covered in nearly faded stains and had small holes littering the edges. And his eyes… They looked so tired without the mask or makeup. Hell, it almost felt wrong looking at his face like this, like he was naked and exposed without it.

The silence finally broke when he spoke. “So are you just going to sit there or are you going to say whatever it is you came in here to say?” It didn’t sound exactly hostile but there was some bite in it and Jack got the very distinct impression she wasn’t welcome. 

Too bad she didn’t care. “What’s with the pottery?” Her voice, on the other hand, was perfectly polite, warm, and friendly. The kind most people had a problem being rude to.

“I know you didn’t come here to ask about that.” He set down the one he was working on and turned in his chair to face Jack, half of his face falling to shadows as he turned from the light streaming through the window. She remained silent, hands folded delicately in her lap and blinking patiently. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes he gave in. “Just helps me relax.”

She smiled at that and nodded. Ryan hadn’t planned to say anything more than that but there she was, ready to listen and, well, he’d never had anyone ask before. “I just wanted something to live for once. And these guys are pretty hard to kill.” His voice died off once again as his thumb brushed across one of the leaves.

Not quite ready for this conversation to end, Jack prompted him on. “And what do all the designs mean?”

He was reluctant to reply, drawing in a deep breath and pursing his lips. Apparently he decided ‘fuck it’ because he was talking a second later. “The ones that look like this are all variations of sigils of protection.” His voice was quiet, reserved -- a trait so rare in him -- as he lifted one of the pots to point them out. “And then I tried to think of stuff that represented everyone. Like a wolf for Michael.” He fell silent, refusing to meet Jack’s eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful.” It was clear that he’d put a great deal of thought into the designs of each. It was very unlike Ryan. Of course, Jack had always assumed that he wasn’t the brutal monster that he played at so that wasn’t what surprised her. It was that he was actually sharing it for once. 

Ryan nodded and then slowly turned to face the window again. It was hard to tell what time it was. All the clocks in the room had been unplugged and the sun hung low in the sky. He had no clue whether that meant it was morning or evening. 

Jack stood and walked to crouch beside his desk, supporting herself by grabbing a hold of the edge of the glass. “Ryan, we need to talk about what happened,” she said, voice as gentle as she could get it. Shifting her balance, she let her fingertips rest on his arm. They lined up almost exactly with a set of scars. 

His arm tensed and drew in just enough for her fingers to fall away. “Nothing happened,” he instantly replied, eyes losing whatever spark of light they’d gained in their previous topic of conversation. 

“Ryan…”

His eyes slid closed as he tried to think his way out of this. Any way… “You know I can’t talk about it.” Geoff would kill him if he knew Ryan had told Jack about what he’d done but he didn’t have the energy to recite the lie. After what he’d just told, he couldn’t say that he had gone out that night for fun. 

Jack scoffed and tossed her head. “Don’t give me that shit. If it was any of that, you wouldn’t be in here. What else happened that night?” He remained silent, jaw tensed shut. “At least tell me what happened between you and Jeremy.” 

His eyes snapped up to meet her’s. “What do you mean? Nothing happened. Is he okay?”

Unsure how to process that, her eyes went wide and she just stared back at him, lips hanging barely apart. “If all this was over a lover’s quarrel or something we’re going to have a problem.”

“What?” With eyes squinted, Ryan tried to figure out what the hell she was saying. Then all at once he got it. “Oh. Oh! No! We’re not- He was fine last I saw him so I thought maybe something had happened.” He gave an awkward cough and set out to look anywhere but at Jack. 

After a second of embarrassingly uncomfortable silence, Ryan decided that perhaps it would just be easier to tell her what happened. She wasn’t going to leave until she got her answer anyways and skirting around what had really happened was doing him no good. “He saw me coming back after… Anyways, I don’t think he was cut out for this kind of work. You should have seen him, Jack. He looked excited by it. It’s gonna get him killed.”

“No it won’t,” Jack replied, sigh of relief mixing with the words. Thank god it wasn’t something more serious. “Gavin’s the same way about violence and he’s still alive. Jeremy is amazing at his job and has been doing even better this last week. You would have been able to see for yourself if you had bothered to come along.” She stood, stretching backwards as she did so. “Time to stop moping in your room. Go talk to him if you really need to but I expect you to be there for the job tomorrow.”

She left without another word, this time leaving the door open behind her. Ryan wanted to hate her for that. He really did. But he couldn’t. Because she was right. Damn her. In a moment of courage, he stood and moved nearly through the doorway after her. And then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hung just to the left of the door. 

The short of it was that he was a mess. If he’d realized perhaps he wouldn’t have let Jack in. But that was a lie, wasn’t it. He knew that she didn’t care about that and wouldn’t tell anyone else and when it came down to it, Ryan wasn’t worried to be vulnerable around her, to let her see his face. It sure as shit wasn’t a comfortable thing but he didn’t mind so much. That wasn’t the case with the others.

So he gently closed the door and got about cleaning himself up. His hair was brushed until it was tangle free and pulled back into a ponytail, only two strands falling loose to frame his face. Next came the face paint, caked on thick until the familiar black, white, and red face stared back at him from the mirror. At times, this face seemed realer than the one without the paint. 

Finally, slipping into black skinny jeans and a leather jacket he felt ready to face whatever was waiting for him outside that door.

In the kitchen, Jack and Geoff talked in hushed tones, each standing on either side of one of the island’s corners. They fell silent as they caught sight of Ryan. On the couch lounged Michael and Jeremy, playing the newest Forza game while Gavin laid across their laps, head in Michael’s lap and feet in Jeremy’s. 

“Good to see you looking like yourself again, Ryan,” Geoff called, nodding in his direction. Jack mirrored the gesture.

Ryan nodded at them in return. “Feels good too.” It seemed that from the second he’d decided to leave that room a switch had flipped. A confidence and power ran through him that he’d not felt for weeks. 

The sound of the game playing in the living room died out and Ryan looked over to see why. He found Jeremy and Michael staring back at him. “Oh hey Ryan. About damn time,” Michael muttered before turning around once again, unpausing and continuing the race, leaving Jeremy in the dust. 

“Ryan, you’re back,” seemed to be all Jeremy was capable of saying. Mostly he just stared blankly. 

Giving that warm, dark chuckle, he nodded. “I wasn’t aware I had left.” A hush fell again. A rather thick one that everyone was waiting for someone else to dispel. Ryan took one for the team. “Come here,” he commanded of Jeremy, nodding and then walking for the door. 

In his rush to do as he’d been told, Jeremy half lept, half fell over the back of the couch. Before the door swung shut behind Ryan, he made it through. Just after they left Geoff gave a chuckle and cast a knowing look at Jack. 

Without a word, Ryan walked to the edge of the roof, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the city. Jeremy approached hesitantly, whether in fear of the edge or of Ryan it was hard to tell. 

They stood in silence for over 5 minutes. It took time but eventually Jeremy came to stand right beside his teammate, relaxed, letting his eyes wander the cityscape as well. He wanted to ask why Ryan had brought him here, why he’d been in his room so long, why the silence. Yet, he also knew that he wasn’t the one who would have to start this conversation. 

In due time, Ryan took that first step. “When I first joined the crew, Geoff brought me up here and told me that we could take whatever we wanted. We have the resources, the teamwork, the showmanship. Do you know how much we actually have?”

Jeremy looked to his companion's face but did not find his gaze met so he once again looked out. “These 10 blocks,” he said, tracing the territory out with his finger in the air. 

A nod. “And do you know why?” Silence stretched as Jeremy thought it through. It wasn’t something he’d considered before honestly. Most people just didn’t question why the crew did what it did. Common theory was that they actually just rolled a die to make their decisions. He knew that wasn’t true now, of course, but that didn’t mean he suddenly knew what they actually did.

When Ryan was satisfied Jeremy wouldn’t reach the answer on his own, he shared the reason. “Because these few blocks were infested by a gang who made a habit of scamming the elderly and families with young children. You see, those groups are vulnerable. Easy to scare them into giving you anything you want. I didn’t approve of that. Nor did the others.”

He paused to see if Jeremy would interject. He didn’t. “Expanding our borders any further would stretch us thin. We’d likely have to resort to doing the same as they were just to keep control. All of that section,” he explained, pointing it out as he spoke, “is relatively unclaimed turf. They’ve got a small corruption problem in their police force but nothing so bad we’d step in yet.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Jeremy finally asked. This time, Ryan met his eyes. 

“Two reasons. First, you’re one of us now. You need to understand how we operate. Most crews are in it for the money and will do anything they can to get it. That’s not us. If you thought it was, you’re welcome to leave. I doubt you will.”

When Ryan fell silent, Jeremy’s eyebrows pulled together. “And the other reason?”

There was a long silence before he got his answer. Cold eyes stared long into his own and he found himself feeling much smaller than usual, reminding him once again of just who he was talking to. “The second reason is to remind you that we’re dangerous.”

Excitement and fear shivered down his spine and Jeremy found himself smiling despite himself. “This isn’t like some cheap thrill,” Ryan practically snarled. That didn’t stop the smile spreading. “We’ve lost people before. We do things that would turn the stomachs of even the most jaded cops or criminals. We hurt people just because they’re in our way. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“Teach me how to do it like you do,” Jeremy suddenly burst out, sparkles of light glittering in his eyes like some lovestruck fool in a romcom. It was equal part pathetic and terrifying. “Teach me how not to care.”

He was too eager. Always too eager. “Kid, you don’t want what I can teach you.” If Ryan could go back to living a normal life, he would. At least, that’s what he told himself in the moments he doubted himself. The more truthful side of him knew that he would never trade this for anything. 

It took a visible effort but Jeremy relaxed. Still, determination burned in his eyes, though. “I’m here for a reason. Whether you show me or not, I’m going to keep doing this job. So it’s your choice.”

Damn him. Damn him to hell. “Fine. But I’m not going to pretend to be happy about it,” Ryan stated, corner of his mouth crooked ever so slightly down. 

“Well I’m not going to pretend to hate it,” Jeremy countered. Yeah this was going to be a real challenge. But perhaps it could at least keep him safe and sane. Perhaps.


	2. Trial By Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want you to be back with the job done before the rest of the crew’s awake.” Geoff stated as he handed over the intel and Ryan tucked it in his pocket.
> 
> He was nearly out the door before Ryan turned to face Geoff again. “I’m bringing the kid.” 
> 
> Geoff frowned, running his hand across his jaw and mouth. His knuckles protested, newly formed scabs threatening to reopen. “Are you sure that’s the best idea? After what happened…”
> 
> “He needs to see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I started writing this chapter and just didn't stop. So I hope you guys don't mind a longer chapter! Warning that there will be graphic depictions of violence and some mild torture in this chapter (A sentence I never thought I would write quite honestly)

It was 3am in the morning. Moonlight streamed through giant picture windows, the only source of light in the room. Neon lights blinked in the streets far below them, barely reaching far up enough the two men to register. The room was more shadows than actual light at this time of night and Ryan, still wearing his skull-like face paint from the day, looked downright chilling. 

Geoff knew, of course, what he was capable of. He probably knew better than anyone else in the crew honestly. When Geoff and Jack had first sought Ryan out he was seen as a sort of devil for hire, willing to anything and everything depending on your price. He never stayed in any place long but when he left, a hauntingly high death count followed.

The pictures they’d found while doing research… It had put even Jack off from food for a week and she’d been doing this for a long time. There had been a very real fear between the pair that they wouldn’t come back from recruiting him. They had very little money to offer back then and one misstep -- one wrong word -- could have brought the wrath of this killer on them.

Jack had tried to talk him out of it. The crew would be nothing without their boss. They didn’t need someone that dangerous anyways. While she had set about finding someone else, Geoff stuck to his plan. 

They’d struck a deal that first meeting. Ryan could do jobs on the side, at least at first, to make up the cash Geoff wouldn’t be able to pay him, but when called upon, he’d be part of the crew. He wasn’t to get as violent as he he normally did unless called upon to do so. Ryan had agreed. Geoff had a crew to protect after all. They understood each other.

If Ryan was being completely honest with himself -- which he usually didn’t do -- he was relieved for the break. It wasn’t that he had hated the jobs he normally got. He didn’t. They were thrilling and he was good at them. He’d spent years building up his reputation and it earned him undisputable respect in crime circles. Everyone knew his name. And when they looked at him, they saw all that he’d done.

But the crew, they hadn’t. Not after a few months. There had been one night where he and Michael had been running the Legendary Mode Halo CE campaign together. Empty soda and beer bottles were scattered across the floor and Ryan had a bag of those pink and white, sprinkle-covered animal crackers tucked under his arm, pausing to pull a few out any time there was a lull in the action. 

Michael had paused the game to give him this look, eyes screwed almost shut, curls falling into his eyes. “Why the fuck is everyone so scared of you?” he’d asked. It had been something Ryan had never expected to be asked. 

Geoff had never made the mistake of losing sight of his reputation and what he could do. That’s why they sat in the office now, texas whiskey poured into a rocks glass and eyes heavy. “You know I hate to ask but...”

It was too late to beat around the bush. “What’s the job and why couldn’t it wait until morning?” Ryan practically growled. There was no real bite to his voice, not for Geoff. It had been a long day and his bed called.

“Because I just learned about it and you need to act as soon as possible,” came the gruff retort. “Look, I need you to make an example with this one. We’ve got a new crew pushing up into South Los Santos. You know we can’t have that. Rumor is they’re planning something in our turf.” Ryan nodded. 

They’d spent the last two months clearing South Los Santos of the various gangs and crews that’d be battling for turf there. Lots of people were getting hurt. It wasn’t that the Fake AH Crew cared for every single civilian in the city. It wasn’t that. It was just that they didn’t approve of exploiting them. It was Los Santos for fuck’s sake. There were other places to make lots and lots of money.

These smaller groups seemed to get their kicks from going after the little guy, stealing from the person who barely had enough money for food for the week. That shit wasn’t going to fly around here. An intervention was necessary.

It would put a bit of a damper in Ryan’s plans for the night though. “Give me a couple hours and then I’ll take care of it.” Geoff was scrolling out the address on a index card, not looking up to nod. He could only hope his handwriting would be better this time than the last. It would be just a bit uncomfortable to show up to the wrong location again. 

“Yeah, go get some sleep but I want you to be back with the job done before the rest of the crew’s awake.” That shouldn’t be a problem. They had a tendency to sleep in. Geoff handed over the intel and Ryan tucked it in his pocket.

He was nearly out the door again before Ryan turned to face Geoff again. “I’m bringing the kid.” 

Geoff frowned, running his hand across his jaw and mouth. His knuckles protested, newly formed scabs threatening to reopen. “Are you sure that’s the best idea? After what happened…” 

Everyone had been rather delicate with Ryan since he’d locked himself in his room. Either they treated him like some child who had to be babied or some kind of dog who would turn on the hand that fed it at any second. He was getting real damn tired of it, truth be told. 

“He needs to see it,” Ryan stated, icy blue eyes narrowed. He wasn’t in the mood to debate this. Honestly he’d only told Geoff as common courtesy, not for permission. “I’ll make sure not to break him,” he added nonchalantly, hoping to dispel the dark shadow that seemed to creep onto Geoff’s face. 

It didn’t work. Something about the way that Ryan had said ‘break him’ sent chills down the boss’ spine. Perhaps it was the subtle implication that Jeremy was some sort of toy, some plaything to be treated carefully for free of damaging it. Or perhaps it was that Geoff knew Ryan could easily break Jeremy if he were to lose control. 

Still… “Okay. Just don’t let Jack see you two get back.” 

Ryan nodded and left without another word, the door clicking closed behind him. For a moment, Geoff allowed himself to pluck the pot Ryan had given him from the desk and turn it over in his hand. Just below where his name was written, a recreation of the anchor tattoo on his right hand. Not perfect, but close.

On the other side of the door, Ryan found himself drifting towards Jeremy’s room instead of his own. It took several long seconds for Ryan to work up the courage to actually knock. Once he did, there would be no turning back from what they were going to do. 

It would happen one day anyways. Ryan knocked. There was rustling in the room, the shuffling of clothes or sheets perhaps. He turned the handle and eased the door open, just in time to see Jeremy pull on a tank top. “Generally, it’s polite to wait for an invitation in after knocking,” Jeremy commented, his back turned. Ryan understood why. Bruises covered his body and he could only imagine how bad it looked in the front. 

“Got a job for us. Be ready to go in two hours.” He got a blank stare in response. “What? Is something wrong with my paint?” He touched a finger to his cheek then took a look. Nope, it was stained black so that wasn’t it.

Jeremy just sighed and shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as he glanced at the alarm clock. “Ryan, it’s 3 in the morning. Can’t this wait?” His voice sounded as tired as his body looked, which was to say, a lot. His shoulders hung low and his eyes dropped, feet barely lifting off the ground as he shuffled the few steps to the nightstand. 

It was then Ryan really took in the room: rustled sheet, pajama pants, lights all turned out, blood all washed off and wounds patched. He’d been asleep. It should have been obvious. That’s why he’d heard no response. For a moment, the pang of regret bit at his heart. No, this needed to happen. This is what Jeremy had wanted.

He rolled his shoulders back, standing straighter, and hardened his expression. He couldn’t let out any of that compassion he was feeling right now. Not if he was going to actually try to teach Jeremy. “This is how this works or not at all. Geoff said jump, we gotta do what he wants. No matter the hour.” 

The kid looked almost too tired to even reply and, well, Ryan had a weak spot for that kind of thing. “Get another hour of sleep. I’ll leave some clothes on your doorknob. We’ll talk plans and rules when you wake up.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy mumbled, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes as he stumbled back to bed. As he turned to leave the room, Ryan decided he really didn’t deserve any thanks. This was a lot to ask without giving much chance to back out. 

Deciding it would be no use attempting to sleep now, Ryan wandered into the conference room they had set up. A map of Los Santos stretched out across a whiteboard, covered in different colors of ink. Each color represented a different group. All over the paper, black ink scratched out the colored borders and in several places, other colors had been replaced with green. Their color.

All Ryan cared about was one particular section of South Los Santos. There’d been 3 different gangs in that section since the time that the crew had begun keeping track. Each had been cleared out successfully. According to the info Geoff had given him, this new group had set up base in the same block the last 3 had. It made sense, tactically: easily defensible, good distance from the cops, relatively hidden, away from prying eyes and ears. Perfect for the headquarters of a crime ring and perfect for what Ryan was planning. 

There really wasn’t much to go on with this one. Usually he’d have an idea of what he was up against. Geoff had given him next to nothing this time. It would make things harder but not impossible.

A couple things were always true with jobs like this. The first was that it needed to be a show. For Ryan, that usually meant no guns. A machete sent much more of a message than a machine gun. It was silent, intimate, frightening. People thought they could fight back against someone with a gun. No one tried to fight back against the masked ghost who counted his dead in the notches of a knife. 

The second was that everyone except one person needed to die. It’s not like the whole crew would be there anyways. Some would live by virtue of not even being around when he went in. But Ryan always left the boss, surrounded by his dead and nearly joining them. Someone to tell the story of the monster who’d done this to him.

It usually did the trick. 

Then again, it worked well because he operated without remorse or hesitation. If he had any of either, he’d be dead before he knew what happened. Fear kept people paralyzed. Seeing weakness motivated them. Jeremy would have almost no practice with it.

Some voice in the back of his head reminded Ryan just how Jeremy actually operated. He was as ruthless as the rest of them. If they were to actually keep score, he just might have the lead when it came to body count, subtracting for close calls. There had to be some kind of way to adjust for time with the crew as well. Perhaps Jeremy wouldn’t even need that though.

Ryan shook his head, banishing the growing mathematical equation growing in his head. This was hardly the time to try to calculate score. Nah, he had something much more theatrical to focus on. Costuming. 

He’d go in his standard. The message wouldn’t come across as clearly if he tried to change anything, after all. But Jeremy… He could play with that one. Well, he could only use what he had on hand. Which did limit things just a tad. 

No, this would be fine. He could work with this. Leaving the conference room behind, Ryan wandered back to his own room, throwing open the door to the closet. Being so successful with his work had allowed him some luxuries. Geoff was more than willing to offer him one of the few rooms with a walk-in closet when he’d asked. Where else was he supposed to put all his costume stuff after all. 

The first thing to get pulled out was the box of masks. Several matched his signature black skull, varying slightly in color and fit. One could easily fit Jeremy. Something about that didn’t seem right though. Jeremy would never be another Vagabond, even if that was his goal. Masking him like one just wouldn’t make sense. He needed his own identity, his own persona. 

The monkey reminded too closely of Michael, the kevlar mask of Geoff. The hockey mask was too ordinary, the eagle mask too extraordinary. He needed something frightening, not silly. The white carnival mask would have worked had it not been nearly ripped in half. But maybe… 

Ryan dug deep into the box until his fingers finally brushed across what he was looking for. A mask based off of the Trapper from Dead by Daylight. It would be perfect. There was no time tonight, but with a bit of work, this could be a real look. A bit of tweaking and no one would need to know the mask’s origins, though he doubted they would know without alterations in all honesty. 

As for the outfit, well, he didn’t exactly have clothes that would fit Jeremy. Not at all well anyways and mobility was somewhat important on this mission. Guess it’d be up to Jeremy to pull that together then. Not wanting to leave him entirely on his own, Ryan scrawled out a basic costume design that Jeremy would work with onto a post-it note, sticking it to the door and hanging the mask on the handle. 

Already dressed and unsure what else to do, Ryan wandered back to his room, plucking a backpack from the floor next to his bed and tossing some spare clothes in haphazardly. All black so blood wouldn’t show through. There was already a med kit in there but he pulled it out to check if anything was missing. Nope. Still good. 

Various other odds and ends filled the bag, more for emergencies than the everyday job. Then again, with this crew, what job didn’t turn into an emergency. Plans almost never worked out, it seemed like cops were always around the corner, and almost everyone refused to wear body armor.

Ryan had lost count of the number of times he’d stitched someone up in some piece of shit motel while they waited for the heat to die down. That’s what this bag was for. Hopefully it’d wouldn’t come in handy this time.

The door creaked open, letting in a rectangle of light. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear it. “Ryan,” a voice said. That, he heard. When he spun around, fingers already clutched around a hunting knife, he saw a dark silhouette with an inhuman face -- a monster. For half a second, the blood running through his veins ran cold. Then he realized.

“Jeremy,” he replied with a sigh of relief, knife-wielding arm relaxing. “Has it really been an hour?” The outfit he’d picked out worked rather well, really. It fit the picture Ryan had in his head almost to a T. He really didn’t give the kid enough credit. 

The mask slid out of way just enough to show off Jeremy’s smile. “Pretty great, huh?” He did a slow spin, almost tripping on the cuff of the overalls he’d found in the process. “Yeah there are, uh… They’re a little big.” He rolled the legs up more then nodded confidently. “But yeah, it’s been an hour. So what’s the plan, boss?” The mask slipped to cover his face once again so he pulled it off.

It was really hard for him to believe that Jeremy was ready for this. “Geoff’s the boss, not me.” He paused only long enough to slip his own mask back into place. “You better take this seriously. You don’t, you die. I’m not gonna be your babysitter on this.”

The smile slipped from Jeremy’s lips and he looked genuinely hurt for a second. To his credit, he held his head high a moment later. “I can do this, Ryan.” And hey, at least he believed what he was saying.

And if he believed in himself, that was good enough for Ryan. “Okay. No guns. Don’t take on more than two at a time. Keep it quiet if you can.” He slung the backpack and began walking as he spoke. Jeremy was hot on his tail. “The mask stays on from the moment we leave until the moment we get back. No chances.”

He punched the button for the elevator then turned to face Jeremy again. “You’re here mostly to observe, got it?” He got an enthusiastic nod in return but shook his head in reply. “I want to hear you say it. You only act when I tell you to and you do exactly what I say. Do you understand.”

Jeremy hold up his arms in mock surrender, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Like a murderous fly on the wall. You don’t have to worry about me.” As soon as he finished speaking he pulled his mask over his face once again.

The elevator dinged and they stepped in. 

Satisfied with the answer, Ryan nodded and fell silent. Jeremy tried to copy but found himself shifting from side to side until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “What exactly is this job?”

“An eviction notice.”

There was a pause where Jeremy waited for him to say more but nope. Okay. Yeah, that’s all he planned to say. “So… We’re going to kill them all? That wasn’t really a clear answer there, buddy.”

Yeah, it really hadn’t been. Ryan had gone for the one-liner and it had fallen short. His bad. “Some of that and some torture. Ya know, to really drive home the point.” The elevator grinded to a halt at their personal garage.

It’d taken a pretty penny to get this place to themselves. Geoff’s pretty penny to be exact. It let them have access and options though. Two things they always desperately needed. Now it was just a matter of choosing one for the night. 

Jeremy followed him blindly into the see of vehicles, not really paying attention to where they were going until they were there. “Wait, we’re taking a bike? When is that ever a good idea?” Ryan was already sitting on the seat and giving him a biting look. “And I have to sit bitch? Come on,” he whined, climbing on either way and grabbing a hold to the back of his jacket. Yeah, he was sure he looked real scary like this. 

It didn’t really matter though. The masks gave them a certain level of anonymity and it was late anyways. No one would see them. But Jeremy would know… Jeremy also knew that there was no way he was getting Ryan to switch places with him. Best to just let it drop. 

It was during the drive that Jeremy began to feel the sparks of adrenaline tingling in his fingers. He was actually doing this… He was doing a job with one of the prolific killer in the state and he was going to get to help! Something in the back of his mind reminded him that, hey, maybe that shouldn’t excite him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care at this point. 

Sure, he always buzzed with energy before a job but this was different. There was something much darker and dangerous about it this time. Maybe it was the silent trip that replaced the ones usually so filled with pre-heist laughter and exhilaration. Maybe it was the sky still lit only by the weak light of the moon. Or maybe it was just the company: so cold and mysterious and closed off but still so real, so human. 

Either way, he was almost shaking when they finally pulled to a stop along a dark street. “That’s it,” Ryan muttered, pointing as he killed the engine and pulled off the backpack. “Stay close, keep low, and relax. The nerves don’t help.”

“Yeah, Jeremy, just relax. That’s not impossibly hard or anything,” he mumbled more to himself than Ryan as he climbed off the bike. Still, he got a huff in response which sounded more like a laugh than a dismissal. 

Still, Ryan was right. He did need to calm down. For a moment, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In 4, hold 4, out 4, hold 4, repeat. A couple cycles had his breathing evened and the shaking stilled almost all the way. 

They crept to the building, only taking a few steps at a time. While they sat in place, Ryan turned his head a few degrees side to side, listening. What exactly he heard, Jeremy wasn’t sure but he followed Ryan to an open window. They waited a second. There were voices drifting through the opening.

“... I’m even up so late anyways. I’ve got work tomorrow. At my real job.”

There was the sound of a lighter and then the tang of smoke in the air. “This could be your real job if you would commit. Boss says we’ll get a lotta money from this bank heist.” There was shuffling and a tap. “You want one?”

“No thanks.” A pause. “Look, about this bank thing… That’s Fake AH Crew territory. Don’t most people who fuck with them end up, you know…”

“Don’t be a bitch. They can put on a show but they’re harmless. Crew like ours? We’ll have them run out of the town with their tail between their legs in no time.” Footsteps.

Ryan caught Jeremy’s eye but didn’t hold it long. It was almost time to act. He held up one hand as the footsteps continued. Closer… Closer… Now. 

The smoking one had gotten too close to the window. His last mistake. Without hesitation, Ryan pulled his machete from his sheath and slammed it into the man’s neck. He didn’t even bother to pull it out, instead pulling himself through the window. 

It had been sloppy and the second guy already had a gun in his hands. Too bad his hands were shaking. The Vagabond was on him in a second, hunting knife glinting in the lights and seeming much bigger than it was in reality. 

Jeremy climbed through the window a mere second after Ryan, grabbing the machete as he did so. The blood ran to the tip then dripped off into the carpet. Real shame. It had been so nice. 

The knife was pressed to the second man’s throat. “You shout, I take your voice,” Ryan promised. The man nodded as well he could without hurting himself. “Name,” Ryan asked more as a growl than a real question. 

“Johannes,” he squeaked out. 

“Good. You were right, you know, about us.” Jeremy hung to the shadows at the edge of the room, watching silently. “And since you’re so smart, Johannes, you’re going to help me kill your boss.”

He shook so bad that the knife bit at his skin and scarlet red blood began to pearl around the blade. “H-how?”

Johannes sucked in a deep breath of air as Ryan let the knife fall just a couple inches. He was being so good after all. He deserved that. “Oh it’s simple, really. Just tell us how many people are here and where he is,” Ryan purred. “And I really hope you won’t lie to us.”

“8,” he replied almost instantly. “5 more this floor, 3 upstairs. The boss is in the bedroom on the north side of the building.”

Ryan gave him a pat on the arm. “See? That wasn’t so bad was it? I didn’t even have to hurt you.” Johannes’ hand instantly went to his neck, rubbing along the cut there, already scabbing. “Oh, that was nothing.”

He gulped hard and looked into Ryan’s eyes for a second. Longer than most people could stomach. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked, eyes now fixed on the body of his friend. 

“That really depends,” Ryan cooed, signalling Jeremy to come take the guns of both men. Johannes’ shaking got worse as he drew closer and Jeremy felt a rush of power. Now he understood why Ryan wore the mask. 

“On?”

His chuckle filled the room, dark and evil. “On how fast you bleed out.” Without giving Jeremy nor the man a second to process, Ryan plunged his knife into the man’s side. It wouldn’t bleed out as fast as the stomach but it would hurt like hell.

Were it not for the hand pressed across his mouth, there would no doubt have been a very loud cry. Still, Jeremy stood by the door, waiting. Listening. No one was coming.

Ryan kneeled, laying Johannes down on the floor. “Remember,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips. “You make a sound, I’m coming back for that voice of yours.” He got the impression he wouldn’t need to come back and prove he’d make good on that promise. Johannes scampered off to a corner in the room, falling to the floor and pulling his knees to his chest. 

This building wasn’t that big. Maybe 4 small rooms on this floor or a couple open ones. Not ideal for what they were trying to pull. Unless they could lure one out at a time. It wouldn’t be impossible to take on two or even three at once what with Jeremy tagging along but he didn’t know what Jeremy could do yet. Only one way to find out. 

“Stand by the door,” he ordered, point to just where he needed Jeremy to stand. “I’m going to scope the place out. Anything besides me comes through that door, kill it.” Jeremy nodded and trudged on over to take his spot. 

Without a word, Ryan crept into the hallway. It was much too bright in here. They should’ve cut the power before coming in. Damnit. Too late now.

There was another door facing the one he’d come out of. There was movement but no voices. Good. Chances were there was only one person in there. Easy. He’d take that one out before luring anyone back into the other room. But first, he needed to make sure the coast was clear. 

The end of the hallways opened up into a small living room, open all the way down along the south side of the building to a kitchen and small dining room. This kind of floor plan was definitely not great for the kind of stealth he was trying to do. The quick peek around the corner did reveal to him three more people, two men and a woman.

The woman sat at the table, eyes apparently glued to the book set before her. The two others had been in the kitchen. It was hard to make out in so quick a look but Ryan got the impression they were attempting to cook something. They were too close to separate but if he could pull the guys away that would make things a lot easier. And usually people reading were less likely to investigate something suspicious. It was just a matter of creating enough of a disturbance to get them to investigate but not so much of one that all three would come rushing. 

Ryan realized too late that he’d overlooked a very important detail. There were 5 people on this level, not four. The gun barrel pressing up against his head, just under the ponytail was a fairly clear reminder. 

“If people had told me it would be so easy to catch the Vagabond, I would’ve tried years earlier!” A voice jeered from right behind him. “I’m gonna be so fucking rich. Everyone’s going to know my name.”

Aside from raising his eyes into the air slowly, Ryan fell still. There had to be a way out of this. Just think. “Too bad I won’t know it.” If he tried to turn around or reach for his knife, she’d blow his head off. Even if he managed to get the gun completely clear, he’d have the rest of the house on him in no time. Jeremy might be able to get out but he certainly wouldn’t. Perhaps this no guns rule really wasn’t working out so well for him. Just keep her talking for now. 

“Oh it’ll be the last thing you hear, don’t worry,” she replied. The safety clicked off and Ryan’s mind went into overdrive. He had to do something. Now. Well… If he got the gun clear maybe he could run before getting shot to death. Maybe. 

He’d made the decision and spun half a second before a knife flew through the air and through her neck. The tip just barely pierced the skin. Enough, though, that as she tried to scream or call for help, the only sound that could be heard was a quiet gurgling. Each failed breath brought with it a spurt of blood, painting the Vagabond’s mask with ribbons of red. Her eyes were wide and her fingers grasped for purchase first on Ryan’s coat and then on her own throat. 

It was a slow, terrible death. It had seemed some sort of cosmic interference, revenging the death she had wished on him with a worse one. It wasn’t until his true savior had plodded over to the woman, kneeling beside her to whisper, “Lil J,” that he understood what had happened. 

Jeremy pulled the knife from her throat, causing another fountain of blood, this time staining his own mask. He stood again, seeming much taller and more intimidating than he normally would, and wiped the knife clean on his sleeve before returning it to his pocket. “1 down, 4 to go,” he commented as he turned to return to the room he’d abandoned.

It had happened so suddenly that Ryan didn’t have a chance to process it. All he could make out from the hurricane of thoughts spinning around in his mind was that he’d never expected such a scene to be so… appealing. Despite all his reservations about bringing Jeremy, Ryan found his heart racing at what had just happened, jonesing for more. More of what, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

But this wasn’t the time nor place to be considering that. There were too many variables still in play, too many more potential mistakes. He needed to go on autopilot, work without reservation or thought. 

His first target became the one in the room across from the one Jeremy had returned to. He entered quietly. The lights were off and in one corner of the room, a man lay in a bed. This was too easy. A precise knife across the throat ensured this would be his last sleep. The body from the hall soon joined his in the bed. 

Back in the hallway now, Ryan surveyed for the lightswitch. There. He flipped it and waited. Surely enough, seconds later there were footsteps. 

“The fuck you guys turning out the lights for?” one of the men called. “Hey come check this out with me.” Perfect.

Ryan crept back to the first doorway as silently as he could, knocking lightly as he reached it and turned the handle. “It’s me. Get ready,” he whispered, stepping halfway through the doorway and standing to full height. 

Sure enough, as the two men rounded the corner they came to a dead stop. All they’d be able to see in this lowlight was a figure silhouetted in the light streaming into the hallway through the cracked door. A figure that seemed to have a skull for a face. 

“Hey,” one shouted, running down the hallway. The other hesitated but then followed a split second later. Ryan ducked into the room nonchalantly, pulling out his machete again. A nod from Jeremy confirmed they were both ready. The first to come through the door didn’t even notice Jeremy, instead heading straight for Ryan. The moment the second followed him in, both Fake AH Crew members struck, Jeremy once again whispering his name to the man he killed. 

From the corner of the room, Johannes gave a whimper but otherwise kept his promise of silence. 

Putting his foot on the back of the body for leverage, Ryan pulled his machete free in time to take out the woman who’d been reading. Apparently they’d been loud enough to draw her out. Something to work on for next time. 

“Take the lead upstairs,” he said, taking a moment to clean off his blade. “You leave the boss for me to start but you can have the others. I want to see what you can do. And you,” he turned to face the man bleeding out in the corner. “You’ve been a good boy. Feel free to crawl your way to freedom once we leave the room.”

He made a squeak that sounded a mix of relief and jubilation. Jeremy, on the other hand, sounded like he was pouting. “What, no ‘good boy’ for me?” he teased. 

Ryan made sure Jeremy could see when he rolled his eyes. “Later.”

The Vagabond waited for 5 minutes after his partner slipped upstairs before following. When he did, he found Jeremy sat on the top step, playing with the bloody knife. Just behind him, two bodies were piled up in a pool of red. He was nothing if not efficient. 

It was probably better to hold all praise until they made it out of this alive, though. “Only two?” Ryan commented, passing Jeremy and trying to find this bedroom he’d been told about. 

“He’s with the boss. Second door on the left there.” Jeremy stood with a groan, bending back to pop his back into place. “Figured you would want to be the first one into the room. How’re we playing this? Just go in and murder them like with that last pair?”

Ryan got to the door and paused with his hand on the handle. “No. You can get the guard but the boss lives. We get to have fun with him.” Jeremy gave a bit of a giggle and nodded. It was… Just a little unsettling but in the best way.

Knife at the ready, Jeremy took his place just beside Ryan who counted down with his fingers. 3… 2…

The door flew open with a crash, no doubt punching a hole in the wall and threatening to come off his hinges. The pair inside were waiting for them, guns held up and at the ready. Ryan allowed himself to consider briefly that he DnD had taught him better than to stand talking in front of a door. Thankfully, the boss and his guard weren’t as mentally prepared as they thought they’d been for what they found at the end of their gun barrels.

There was just enough hesitation for Jeremy and Ryan to rush them. To their credit, each got off a couple shots. None landing anywhere near their intended target. In the blink of an eye, the boss was pinned to a wall, making contact with enough force to daze while the other guy stared lifeless at the ceiling, knife protruding from his chest. 

Ryan glanced away only long enough to see that Jeremy’d done his job before refocusing on his own. He stayed completely silent this time, dragging the boss’ limp body pressed against the wall to the nearest chair and holding his hand out. Without any further instruction needed, Jeremy pulled some rope out of his pocket and handed it over. It’d been on that list of thing to bring that Ryan had left him earlier that night.

Before the boss regained consciousness, the duo had him tied to the chair. It was an absolutely ridiculous scene from an objective standpoint. The boss tied to the chair was wearing silk pajamas that were not only out of place for this neighborhood but also for the house. Perhaps if he’d had the nice house to match it would have given off the air of wealth. Instead it fell flat. Staring him down were two terrifying masked men, each looking as though they’d stepped out of a horror movie not 5 minutes earlier. Different horror movies to boot. Ryan leaned against a rather expensive looking desk, various knives laid out across the wood with arms crossed over his chest while Jeremy stood off to the side, arms at his side, machete touching the floor, watching. 

Of course, it was hard to be objective of a situation that you were currently in. And subjectively, it was a truly terrifying way to wake up. 

Silence filled the air, so thick it must have felt crushing for the boss. To the Fake AH Crew duo, the empty air seemed filled with electricity, building up a storm of anticipation. They’d begin on what they came here to do soon. All the rest had merely been foreplay leading up to this.

Sweat ran down the boss’ brow before he began to talk. “Look, dudes, if it’s money you’re after there’s a safe under the bed. I’ll tell you the combination if you promise to let me go!” Neither responded nor even moved at all to indicate that they had even heard him. The move had the desired effect and he seemed to get more desperate. “You gotta help me out here. I’m not a mind reader! Is this a kidnapping or-” He fell silent as a look of realization suddenly spread across his face.

Beneath the mask, Ryan’s lips curled into a smile. His favorite part. “Wait you’re-” He looked between them frantically. “You’re from that Fake gang aren’t you? What’s it? Fake AH Crew? Yeah, that’s right!” His jubilation over figuring out the name lasted only a second. “What do you want with me? I ain't done anythin’ wrong, dude. You don’t even know me!” 

The chair nearly tipped and Ryan forced it even again with a loud thunk. The boss didn’t seem likely to try again. “Victory ‘Vic’ Johnson. 2 children. 2 ex-wives, 1 ex-husband. You haven’t paid child support in 17 months. 1 conviction for assault with a deadly weapon. 1 conviction for robbery. Various other charges that went without conviction including petty theft, coercion, public indecency, et cetera, et cetera.”

Jeremy was as surprised as Vic was that Ryan knew as much as he did but he knew better than to show it. “What the fuck! Is that my police file?” The file fell closed and Ryan set it on the desk again. “I’m getting real sick of this silent treatment,” he warned. Not that he was in any state to be making threats.

Ryan decided a lesson was in order. After ghosting his fingers across several of the blades he picked up one of the smallest. Without hesitation he stood, closed the distance between himself and Vic and plunged it into the man’s leg. A howl filled the room, almost coming to an end before returning full force as Ryan yanked the blade free again. It wouldn’t bleed much. A good place to start. 

“What the fuck!” Vic screamed, rocking in his chair again. It was Jeremy that moved behind him to hold the chair in place this time. “The fuck did I ever do to you guys?!” He wasn’t graced with a response. 

Instead, Ryan turned to his table again, replacing the blade he’d used and choosing another. That was easy enough. It was choosing what to do with it that was the hard part. There were so many options. 

As he considered them, Ryan let the blade drag up Vic’s leg and then across his chest, not pressing hard enough to pierce the skin but enough to draw forth a whine of distress. The sound sent a thrill running through Ryan’s body. He could do anything he wanted here. The power over life and death rested on him. His gaze met Jeremy’s and saw the sentiment mirrored in his partner’s eyes. And that just made it all the more thrilling. 

Eyes still locked onto Jeremy’s, Ryan pressed the knife into Vic’s skin, twisting slowly and drawing out another scream. The shiver he saw rock Jeremy for a second was captivating. More pressure on the knife, another shriek, and it returned.

“I’ll do anything,” Vic pleaded, trying to pull away but finding himself rather sandwiched. “Please!” The begging did him no use. “At least tell me why!”

For the moment, Ryan ignored him, instead handing the knife to his partner and stepping back. They traded places and he let Jeremy get settled before answering. “You got too cocky, forgot who runs this place,” he answered in a relaxed drawl. 

Jeremy dug into his skin with the knife without reservation, tearing through the silk shirt to summon scarlet ribbons of blood across his chest. “If you’d stayed in your lane, this wouldn’t have been necessary. But no, you guys are all the same. So desperate for that next score. Your luck’s run out.”

Nothing else needed saying and so Ryan fell silent, ignoring any further pleas from their captive. Instead, he turned his attention to Jeremy.

What he seen should have horrified him. Jeremy acted without mercy, torturing the man like it was some kind of science experiment, eager to try anything and everything. His hands and the cuffs of his sleeves were dyed red in no time and his eyes were bright. It was delightful. 

It was only when the cries of pain began to die off that Ryan refocused on Vic. “Wait,” he muttered to his partner, coming around to stand before their victim again. “We can’t have him passing out,” he explained, voice gentle like a teacher trying to explain a delicate equation. “Not before the finale.” 

Despite the calm exterior, Ryan’s heart raced, spiking even further as Jeremy brushed passed him to place the knife on the desk once again. Every job felt like this. That wasn’t the surprise. The surprise was how much better it was with someone else. How much more dynamic and electric and exciting. 

Not in the mood to wait, Ryan pat Vic’s cheek until he seemed to regain consciousness. “Please…” he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Ryan replied, tapping a knife against Vic’s knee. This one was thinner, one more likely used in art than cooking or crime. “We need to make sure everyone knows your mistake forever, don’t we?”

Vic passed out before Ryan was able to finish his work. Carved into the left side of his chest were the letters F-A-H-C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering why Jeremy kept saying "Lil J" when he killed someone, blame my brother. He said he'd only read it if I put that in. There's gonna be one more chapter after this to tie up some loose ends and thank you for everyone who left kudos and comments on the last chapter! If you enjoyed this one too, consider doing the same! Follow me on tumblr at achievements-huntress as well if you want and shoutout to achievement-trash of tumblr for beta reading this and being amazing in general!


	3. Battle Buddies

The sound of sirens blaring rang closer and closer as Ryan and Jeremy raced out of the building. By Ryan’s estimate they were two or three blocks away which was, to say, not far enough. He’d expected them to come, of course. That’s generally what happened when he decided to let someone go. And it’s not exactly like they’d controlled the room for sound before starting in on the torture. It was how soon they’d arrived that surprised him.

Then again, a glance at his watch showed it was already 6am. They’d been here far longer than he thought. The cops would be on their tail which meant getting back to the penthouse in any kind of timely manner was out of the question. It wasn’t worth the risk. Sure he’d be late and Geoff would probably chew him out but everyone would be safe. Well… The other four would be.

“You’re driving,” Ryan instructed as they ran through the front door, barrelling towards the bike. There wasn’t time to argue but Jeremy looked like he was ready to try. “Jeremy,” Ryan growled, cutting him off before he could start. 

As soon as he grabbed the keys from Ryan, he ran ahead, hopping on the bike and starting it up. The Vagabond was only steps behind him, scooping up the backpack and sliding onto the seat in one fluid motion. “Go,” he ordered, knees pressing tight against Jeremy’s side to keep himself stable as he unzipped the bag. 

“What happened to the no gun rule?” Jeremy yelled over his shoulder as he revved the engine and pulled away from the house. The police cruiser rounded the corner just in time to see them.

Ryan shouldered the bag over his left shoulder and turned to look behind them. “Things changed. Never said I wasn’t going to be prepared.” He had implied that he wasn’t bring one. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it though. Someone needed to drive so they only needed one gun and Ryan would be damned if he let Jeremy use it this time.

Not to mention, this was his backup pistol which meant it was pretty simple. It was automatic, sure, but he’d left all his armor piercing rounds behind. If one of those armored police trucks showed up they were fucked. And a bike wasn’t exactly the most stable thing to shoot from. It did have speed though. 

For now they only had one car hot on their tale but there were no doubt more on the way. And knowing this part of town, they’d get cut off pretty quickly. “Take the next left and then-”

“Shut up,” Jeremy interrupted him, picking up speed. “I know what I’m doing. You focus on your job, I’ll focus on mine.” As if to prove a point he almost immediately turned right. It wasn’t a good street to be on. Barely more than an alley and eventually dead-ending at a brick wall, people got caught here all the time. 

No matter how much he wanted to protest, Ryan kept silent. Jeremy had been right. He had more pressing issues to worry about and at this point, Jeremy had more than proved he was worthy of Ryan’s trust. 

So instead Ryan worked on a plan to take out cops. There was some good distance between explosions were unpredictable. Best to avoid that if at all possible. Taking out the tires or the driver were both options but even that had risks. The car could go off course and flip or pick up speed if the driver died. There were no great options here.

Not all the options were bad though. Ryan cocked his gun and took aim. Once he thought he had a good chance of hitting his target he unloaded a short flurry of bullets on the cop in the passenger seat. Several of bullets went wide but some definitely hit their target. 

The driver slowed to check on his partner, turning away from the road. Perfect. Another spray of bullets took out the right tire. Instantly, the car veered off and slammed into a lightpole. “We’re clear,” Ryan called. At least for now. He could hear more sirens coming. They had maybe a minute. 

And it seemed the pan was to spend their minute barrelling further down this dead-end path. “Jeremy,” Ryan warned, constantly looking back and forth. “Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

The engine revved faster and Jeremy glanced back to say a reassuring, “Trust me.” The second cop car rounded the corner, guns already hanging out windows. Assault rifles in particular. Apparently seeing a crashed and burning cop car got them a little riled up. 

“We’re out of time,” Ryan stated as the cops began firing. For now, their aim was wide. That wouldn’t last. He tried to return fire but the bike was swerving too much now and he didn’t have too much ammo to waste. 

The bullets embedding in pavement and bricks grew closer and closer when Jeremy seemed to come to a complete stop, almost instantly, turning nearly 90 degrees in the process. Before he’d even had time to register what was happening, Ryan found his arm wrapped around Jeremy. His ass would probably be on the pavement right now if it weren’t for that. Unfortunately, his gun had fallen. 

Almost as soon as it had stopped, the bike started again. Now speeding directly at a wall. Or more specifically, two large metal doors. 

Searing, white-hot pain overwhelmed Ryan’s senses in an instant. His grip on Jeremy’s waist tightened and his body slumped forward, masked forehead landing squarely in between his partner’s shoulder blades. His spare arm tried in vain to reach the source of the pain. It must have been a bullet. Dimly, his brain considered the possibility they’d brought armor piercing rounds. He could barely hear that part of his brain. 

It wasn’t entirely clear if his perception of time was slowing or if it was the bike but Ryan supposed it didn’t matter. “Don’t you dare stop,” Ryan growled through clenched teeth. “Unless you want me to get shot again.”

Jeremy didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on his driving. No matter how many times he’d practiced this, it was still risky. 

He pulled it off flawlessly. The doors burst open as he sped into them but Jeremy didn’t stop or slow. He knew exactly where he was going. He exited out the other side of the building unpursued. Now it was just a matter of making sure they weren’t found again and closest safe house was only .6 miles out. He was confident they could make it, no problem. 

Which gave him time to worry about other things. “Are you okay?” Jeremy called back, keeping his eyes glued on the road and side streets. 

“The fuck do you think?” Ryan muttered before taking a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Just get us somewhere we can actually look at this.” They both fell silent for a while after that. The only sound filling the air around them was that of the rush of wind and sirens, growing fainter by the second. Occasionally, someone standing on the side of the road would yelp or yell after them as they sped by. 

It felt there was a lot that still needed saying which made it hard to find somewhere to start. Best plan in situations like this? Generalize. “Good job,” Ryan finally decided on. He could get into what latter. 

It seemed to be the right choice because he could feel Jeremy’s back shake slightly in a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty great, huh? I wish I could’ve seen their faces, oh man.” His form stilled and when he spoke next, his voice was more resigned. “Sorry that I got you shot.” 

“It was the cops that shot me, not you. It happens.” 

The motorcycle slowed to a stop in a dark alley between two haggard office buildings. At least, they had been once upon a time. They’d been abandoned for years. One was condemned actually. Geoff owned the other. Graffiti covered nearly every brick and there was more plywood than windows at this point. Nestled in a hole in the outer wall of the condemned building was a tarp which Jeremy grabbed to drape over the bike. 

Streetlights blinked yellow light across the street occasionally, giving the whole area a kind of hazy, black-and-white feel. It was the kind of place that you wouldn’t be surprised to find out wasn’t real. Or to be abducted by aliens or something equally ridiculous. These kinds of building weren’t uncommon in the old areas of Los Santos but something about these two seemed to attract undue attention. 

To be frank, people believed the condemned building was inhabited by ghosts. It had first been evacuated in the 50’s or something and was still filled with relics from that past. If the stories were to be believed, someone had even snuck in to steal a mahogany door once.

Truth is, the Fake AH Crew were the supposed ghosts. A couple of people had been unfortunate to stumble upon the building while they were in there once -- heard the screams of a rather nasty wound being treated or seen bloody weapons and clothes strewn across the floor. 

Ryan leaned against the bike for support until they made their way inside. The world swam before him and the ground seemed to move far too much for him to even consider walking on his own. His broad hands rested squarely on Jeremy’s shoulder, shambling on behind him. As the adrenaline died away he was reminded once again just how much it fucking hurt getting shot. All other thoughts fell away as he focused on keeping himself moving. He’d focus on the pain later.

The area just inside the front door was destroyed to hell and Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would even want to look around here. There was a dead rat lying in the middle of the doorway to the first door to the right and spider webs hung in every corner. He decided not to focus on the fact that those webs undoubtedly belonged to spiders who were still here. 

“We have to go up some stairs,” Jeremy murmured, afraid to make much noise in the overwhelming silence. Every word and creak of the rotting floorboards seemed as loud as an explosion in here. Ryan replied only with a groan. 

They took the steps one at a time, stopping every six or so to allow Ryan a break. Despite his shirt being black, the blood blossoming from the wound was obvious and getting worse. Jeremy began to doubt they would make it to the fourth floor like this and while he was strong, he really doubted he could carry that much dead weight. Maybe dead weight was a bad choice of words…

They’d made it halfway up the second flight of stairs before Ryan spoke a full sentence. “I’ll be okay. Promise,” he rasped, voice barely more than a whisper. He sounded rough to put it bluntly. 

“Are you sure we can keep going?”

The laugh Ryan replied with rumbled from deep in his chest. It was all warmth and good intentions and always seemed to calm Jeremy’s frayed nerves. “Sure? No. But determined. Let’s keep going.” The brave face he put on was clearly meant for Jeremy’s benefit but he could see past it. 

It took them a good 10 minutes to make it the rest of the way up the stairs and by the time they finished Ryan was practically dead weight, eyes barely staying open. To the casual observer, this floor would look like all the others above and below it, desks littered around, chairs upturned, cobwebs, sharps of glass mixed with the dust covering the floor. But tucked into the back corner was a door.

The pair staggered to the door and Ryan pulled from his jacket a key. It slipped into the doorknob easily and the lock clicked open. The room behind it was clean. Well, all things considered. There was a pile of ruined, bloody clothes pressed up against the grimy window and an old mattresses shoved haphazardly against the wall so that only one corner touched. Sitting just beside the bed was a fully stocked med-kit. 

The masks came off the second the door closed, tossed to the side carelessly. Ryan fell rather gracelessly to the mattress and Jeremy instantly began to rummage through the kit. “You know the procedure. Stay calm, drink water, don’t move around too much,” Jeremy instructed as he pulled on gloves and pulled out a fresh bottle of water, antiseptic, and all he’d need to dress the wound. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Been through this before.” A groan cut off his words as he pulled his jacket and shirt off with just his good arm. As soon as that was done he dropped back down, fumbling around for pill bottles they always had lying around here. Didn’t take too long before he’d found the pain-killers and anti-anxiety ones and downed a couple. 

Jeremy got right to work, not bothering to warn Ryan anytime he flushed out the wound with the surgical level antiseptic or water. And to his credit, the hisses and groans that came as a result didn’t seem to distract him. Despite his fingers shaking, he remained focused and kept working until the job was done and he was sure Ryan would be safe. “Caleb can do a better job I’m sure, but that should do for now.” He sat back, shoes just barely touching the edge of the mattress. 

Ryan closed his eyes, making sure not to shift or move for fear of knocking some of the new bandages out of place. “I’m sure you did a fine job. Just remember, no one besides Geoff hears about this. I’ll take care of getting anymore help I need on my own.” It was usually safe to assume Caleb could be brought into the loop in situations like this but Ryan’d be damned if he got Jeremy any more involved than he already was. 

“Hey Ryan?” He paused until he heard some murmur that prompted him on. “My clothes are kinda… I mean, I’m still wearing this whole get-up and it’s pretty bloody. People are going to know something happened.” Without opening his eyes, Ryan pointed at the backpack he’d left lying beside the discarded masks. 

From the moment he reached the bag and pulled the zipper open, Jeremy understood what he meant. “They’re my clothes so they’ll be a bit big for you,” Ryan admitted. “But go ahead and change into ‘em before we head back.”

Jeremy settled down again, sitting much closer to the bed this time. “So are we gonna talk about what just happened, or?” He asked, trailing off instead of finishing the question. The only immediate reaction he got out of Ryan was the flutter of eyelashes and a deep sigh. 

“Wasn’t planning on doing much talking at all. Doesn’t seem like there’s much you need me to teach you anyways.” Jeremy had been surprisingly efficient and detached, matching Ryan pace for pace. The only thing that might need work was his ability to listen to directions. Then again, considering that the one time he’d disobeyed an order he’d saved his life, Ryan didn’t feel like he had much room to question that. 

It was pretty obvious he wasn’t getting away with an answer like that though. “No, I mean…” His voice once again trailed off and the air hung heavy. There were about a million places he could take this. Ryan wasn’t sure he was ready for any of them. “Is it always that electric?”

And there was a word choice that he could work with. “Well, I’d argue it’s most electric with Gavin. I tend to keep electricity out of my work. Too unreliable and unpredictable.” The way Jeremy’s shoulders dropped almost instantly revealed his disappointment as clearly as if he’d spoken it.

He wasn’t going to give in. He wouldn’t answer Jeremy’s questions, no matter how much it would disappoint him. His innocence was at stake. If he knew… “No. It’s different when you’re on your own,” he answered. Damnit. Damn him and his expressive face and his ability to make Ryan say and do anything he wanted. It was too late to take back what he’d said but maybe if he could just keep his mouth shut from here out. “You still get the adrenaline, the thrill. But it’s not quite so…” One day he’d learn to say no to Jeremy, he promised himself. “That was new for me.”

Oh sure, he’d done this kind of thing plenty. Sometimes there would be other people there but never had someone else participated alongside him. It was a strangely powerful bonding experience. The kind that left your chest tightening and shifting with unease and unfamiliarity but also called for more. So much more. 

“Okay, good. I’m glad that wasn’t just me then.” It was as if a different person had taken the place of Jeremy. Just a half hour ago he’d been all straight-backed, chest-puffed confidence. Now, his legs were pulled to his chest, held tight in place by his arms. 

Ryan’d been worried something like this would happen. He’d succeeded in saving Jeremy from getting shot but had done nothing to prevent emotional trauma. They’d taken lots of lives. That fell heavy on the soul. Not to mention that it was never an easy thing seeing a friend get shot. 

There had to be something he could do; something he could say. His fingers reached out to land on Jeremy’s arm. He was met with a shuddery breath and shiver from Jeremy and goosebumps rising on his own arms. “Jeremy, I-”

A sharp ringing cut him off and both jumped, causing a shock of pain to fly from Ryan’s shoulder, pulling with it a hiss of pain. Jeremy leaned back and looked away and Ryan hadn’t even realized that he’d been leaning forward. It only took a few seconds to dig out his phone. Geoff. Probably best to answer. 

Casting one final glance at Jeremy, Ryan flipped open the phone and refocused on the ceiling above him. “What’s up, boss?” he started, voice as calm and collected as if everything was perfect. 

“What’s up?!” Geoff repeated. Or screamed, really. “What’s up is that you aren’t back yet and the story was all over the news,” he continued, more of an angry whisper now than a shout. “Jack’s asking me questions. You wanna explain what the hell happened?”

It took everything in him not to groan a response. “Things got a bit complicated, that’s all. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

And yeah, he didn’t expect that to go over well. “A few hours?” And there was that signature Geoff Ramsey voice crack. He was definitely in hot water.

“Yeah. Just a few. We can talk when we get back,” Ryan responded evenly, hanging up before giving Geoff a chance to respond. One click had the phone set to silent and tossed aside. If he were to make a bet on it, he’d wager that he’d have about 5 missed calls by the time he next checked his phone. 

The end of the phone call had prompted Jeremy to look back up at Ryan, eyes wide. “You just… You just hung up on Geoff Ramsey. That’s not something people do.” All he got as a reply was a shrug. 

“As I was trying to say earlier-” What had he even been trying to say. Oh there were several hundred things he wanted to say. But which one. “I, uh, I didn’t expect you to do so well. Normally, other people just get in my way. But you, you helped. You handled yourself well and, hell, who knows if I’d have even made it without you. We had some close calls,” Ryan said, staring up at the ceiling for most of the words. When he did look down, he saw a small frown on his partner’s lips. He might have called the expression disappointment if it didn’t seem so out of place. Had he said something wrong?

Still, Jeremy put on a brave face and that frown was gone almost instantly. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’d call a bullet in the shoulder a close call. I’m pretty sure that’s a direct hit.” Ryan waved the comment off as if it were silly and Jeremy supposed it was. Their crew got shot at all the time. It was surprising more bullets didn’t find their mark, really. “You’re right though. We do make a pretty good team, huh?” His eyebrows shot up and he smiled wide like he’d won some kind of victory.

It was pretty obvious that he wanted a response. Ryan decided, instead, to merely hum his approval and nod before letting his eyes slide shut. He really shouldn’t sleep. They needed to get back soon. And yet…

“Oh, come on! At least admit that it was fun.” When Ryan just gave him a funky look, he carried on. “You said you weren’t going to pretend to be happy about bringing me along on stuff like this. But you are, aren’t you.”

And there went his eyes closing again. “We’re not talking about this.”

For a second, it seemed Jeremy might actually listen to him. One blissful second. “Yes, we are. I need to. Because if we don’t-” he paused and swallowed hard before barreling forward. “Just tell me.”

Breathing in and out slowly, Ryan sat up, right hand pressed to his left shoulder. Stars popped into his vision and a dull throbbing pain pulsated through his left arm but it was doing better. He should staying lying down -- that’s what would be best for his recovery anyways -- but if Jeremy needed to talk about it, he’d be damned if they half-assed it. 

It took a few seconds to gather his words and Jeremy seemed content to wait patiently now that he knew he’d get his answers. Ryan just had to make sure he had the right ones. “In a way, I am happy to have you with me. You’re amazing at what you do and you aren’t scared of me or getting your hands dirty.” His gaze dropped down to his hands, stained a brown-red with dried blood. “But that also terrifies me. “You’re reckless and young and still so alive. I don’t want to rob you of that.”

Jeremy had the good sense to hold his tongue while Ryan paused. “What I do isn’t healthy. You deserve a life away from that. It’s still possible for you to have a normal life.”

A jarring, cackling laughter pulled Ryan’s focus up again. Jeremy was clutching his stomach and laughing as though they playing video games back at the penthouse. For just a moment, Ryan was very, very worried that Jeremy’d lost it.

“I don’t want a normal life, Ry-bread,” Jeremy finally got out through the giggles. “Who in their right mind joins the Fake AH Crew and assumes they can still live normally?” His speech and breath evened out and this time, Jeremy looked Ryan straight in the eyes. “I live for shit like this. You’re not robbing me of anything because I can make decisions for myself.”

That phrase in and of itself was rather ambiguous. It didn’t state what those choices were not what his decision on those choices were. The chill currently running down Ryan’s spine and the way Jeremy’s eyes stared into his own. He had a pretty good idea what the decision was. “You’re making the wrong one,” Ryan warned.

Jeremy didn’t even stop to consider Ryan’s warning. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m making the right one,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “The question is, what’s your decision?” It was stated more as a rhetorical question than a real one, as though he didn’t expect a verbal answer. 

This was uncharted waters for Ryan. It’s not that he never talked about his feelings. Except that was sort of a lie, wasn’t it. His life since becoming the Vagabond had basically been to work for whoever paid him and never get attached. Never ask questions, just do the job, and get out. No time for regrets or doubts. 

So now being offered a choice -- a choice on who he would rely on, who he would trust -- and it wasn’t really a choice at all when it came down to it. From the second he’d felt the electricity in that room while torturing the rival boss, he’d known. All of this, this shared solitude in an abandoned building, had just cemented it. “Battle buddies?”

“Battle buddies,” Jeremy agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, our story comes to a close. I'm so happy that this got so much positive feedback and I hope I was able to give you a satisfying ending here. As always, kudos and comments are the highlight of my day and feel free to check out my tumblr (@achievements-huntress)


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